


Heartbeat

by Dalemunk



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalemunk/pseuds/Dalemunk
Summary: Day one of my Hey Arnold November Prompt Challenge.





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always had a soft spot for Brainy, and honestly if I wasn’t such an Arnold/Helga shipper, he’d be the next boy I’d pair with her. So here’s a story, as seen from Brainy’s point of view, about unrequited love.

I can’t stop myself from loving her. I’d sooner be able to stop my heart from beating. She’s a masterpiece. An orchestration. A marvel. A true work of art. She is a Van Gogh. A Beethoven. A Hemingway. The most pristine feather on the back of a swan.

I’ve only really been able to glimpse her wonderment on the rare occasion when she feels she isn’t being watched. When she ducks into an abandoned alleyway and unsheathes that little golden heart from the depths of her dress, she drops her facade. Her walls come down. Her brow loses the menacing glare and her eyelids get heavy. And her voice - oh! that voice - takes on an airy other worldly quality. It lilts, rises and falls in a melodic crescendo. Poetry drips from her tongue and words stitch together like Arachne weaving an ancient tapestry. My palms dampen. My pulse quickens. My breathing both speeds up and gets wheezy. I hear the music stop and without much warning, her fist slams into the bridge of my nose.

I’ve lost count of how many times she’s broken my nose, but I don’t even care anymore. The pain is worth it. Any chance I can get to hear those notes drop from her lips, I’ll take. I don’t even care that the music is an ode to a boy that is not me. I don’t care that her voice hitches every time she swoons his name. I don’t care that the picture in her locket is of him, because it is him that makes her say those beautiful things. He is her muse. She is mine.

Because when she speaks, my heart beats and breaks.


End file.
